


Back Where I Started

by sasha_b



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bass' first night after dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back Where I Started

**Author's Note:**

> practice for me, and a moment in Bass' head. SPOILERS for up through 2.07.

 

 

"You missed me."

Bass feels woozy but he says it anyway, and notes that Miles doesn't disagree with him. Later, when he asks about his son (fuck's sake his _son_ ) Miles smiles slightly, tiny, almost hidden (smiles!) and says _one thing at a time._

He lays in the bed, and knows they're going to leave him alone the next day, but he's okay with that, because Miles. Because he's not dead, and because Miles is there, and really, Charlotte too. And he's okay with Rachel being there, even though she'd -

_the needle burns and the cold syrupy crap Rachel's dad had injected him with freezes him as it travels through his blood, his veins stiff and he's having a hard time breathing and his eyes unfocus and he can see Miles and Shelley and he can see the baby and Emma and Miles' hand on his neck and the graves of his family and the bright sands of Afghanistan and the dirty socks Miles leaves all over their tent and the car stopping in the middle of the road when the lights went out and the chopper taking off and Rachel's face in the tent, holding the grenade and the sky, clearer than he'd ever seen it, stars and winking things and the blistering, brilliant moon and Miles' crystal eyes and_

Bass jerks awake, and Miles is sitting there in a chair next to the meager bed he's been lying in since Rachel had dug him up.

He giggles and Miles cocks an eyebrow and hands him some water. Bass sips and tries to sit, fumbling his hands on the edge of the bed, shoving up. Miles has to lever him into position, and the imprint of Miles' hand on his arm burns Bass' skin.

"You're here," he says and rolls his head on the thin pillow so he can look at Miles. The other man licks his lips and crosses his arms. "Yeah, Bass," he sighs. "You're still a bit loopy. Wanted to make sure you didn't fall on your own face, or something." Miles cracks a smile but this time it doesn't make his eyes. Bass shrugs and lifts a hand, tracers following from his fingers. Weird.

"Where's my son, Miles?" he asks, watching his hand. "Where is he?"

"In due time, Bass."

"Fuck that, Miles. Now."

"You're not processing things right. Soon, I promise."

Bass struggles further and sits up and reaches out a hand to Miles. "Miles. You knew all this time, and you didn't tell me. What the _fuck_ gives you the right to hold that kind of information from me?"

Miles doesn't move but his face shutters and Bass knows that look. "The right that I know you and you got Emma killed, Bass." He straightens and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "You did." His mouth is a thin slash and Bass flinches without meaning to - he's alive, he's found Miles and his family and _fucking fuck shit_ he has a reason to be breathing - he has a son and he has his best friend and now Miles is pulling this shit - Bass snarls and grabs for Miles' arm. Miles lets him.

"I did not. That was not -"

"Bass. Shut your mouth before I shut it for you. You are…fuck," Miles sighs, and sits back. "He is fine. You are fine. Rachel saved your ass and you'd best be grateful because there are a lot of people who want you dead for real, man. I really leaned that way myself for a long time, so remember that - "

"Yeah, except you couldn't ever follow through on that, could you."

Bass feels sick. He thinks it's the drugs that are still coursing through him ( _couldn't warn me, could you, Rachel_ ) but he swallows and it's rough and he flails and looks for a bathroom and hot bile comes rushing up and Miles snags him around the waist and thrusts him at the bucket that sits in the corner and lets him throw up the little that's in his stomach.

When Bass is able to see again, he's laying in the bed and his shirt is being used as a rag to rub cool water onto his forehead, Miles frowning at him, holding the shirt and a bottle of water. The moon shines in the glassless window and Bass groans and tries to roll away from Miles. The other man makes a tetchy noise with his mouth and Bass holds still, closing his eyes after a weak moment of searching Miles' face. It's hot in the room but a small breeze makes its way in, blowing the curtains and caressing Bass' skin, a long lost touch that makes him shiver even as Miles puts the shirt away and tugs the covers higher on Bass' chest.

"What did I tell you before?"

Bass looks at him.

_We're still brothers._

"Forever," he answers, his voice soft and drug-laced, the word cracking and he has to shut his eyes, the nausea rising again. Miles' familiar hand touches his shoulder and Miles' breath out is heavy and thick enough to shake the whole world. "Fuck, Bass," he whispers, and Bass just nods. He doesn't want Miles to finish that thought, because he doesn't want to know where the other man is going with it. Could be one direction - could be down to Hell. Bass doesn't give a shit about much save the fact he's found Miles (finally) and he's been literally _saved_ and that direction of his own makes him laugh until his eyes open, the tears that had been trapped by his lids slipping down his face, his sight blurry, Miles' form coming in and out of focus.

Fuck the …

something's not quite right with him…but he…

what was he going to say? Where is he again? What the fuck is this place? Is he in New Vegas again - had he ever left? Or had he just died there, as he'd intended? Wind on his face, Miles' head resting on his arm, the other man's hand lying lightly on his wrist, Bass' tattoo - or what's left of it - burning and throbbing and he lays there, confused and heart thrumming in his chest and Miles curses under his breath and imprints the word on Bass' bicep.

Bass wakes alone when the morning sun blasts uninvited into the room and he sits up, noting the bottle of water and two pieces of bread with a withered apple that sit on the small table next to the bed. He gets up, tottering to the bucket in the corner and after taking care of his bladder, fumbles back to the window, leaning against it, breathing heavily and tired out as fuck. He's still dizzy and pissed about it; Miles had told him somewhere in that long night he'd be pretty muzzy for a while. What an annoyance -

he shakes his head and _my son, where is my son?_

_…Emma._

_I'm sorry._

_I'm sorry, Miles._

…ripples through him and he wipes his face, dried tears burning the rough skin.

He stares out the window and watches for the signal Miles had told him to wait for, his hand resting on the frame, forehead gradually slipping to lean on his wrist. He'll wait as long as he has to, because he's where he wants to be.

He thinks.

He stands and watches and forgets where his mind had been spiraling and it's Miles, after all. It's not the Plains Nation anymore and it's not Colorado and he's not alone and he narrows his eyes, _don't cry_ echoing and he waits.

~


End file.
